Stiles stalked about the room, mind jumping from thought to idea, to action and back again. He felt as though he was about to burst at the seams, rip apart – burst.
"Stiles, go and lay down." Derek muttered, opening his book again. "You'll feel better."
"No." He snapped, hating that Derek thought he could tell him what to do.
"If you don't do what I tell you, I'm going to rip your throat out." Derek replied calmly, turning the page of his book as though he didn't have a care in the world. "With my teeth."
"I don't care." Stiles said, turning again and walking back towards the window. "I feel like I'm going to explode."
"If you rest you'll feel better."
Stiles didn't know why he did it, or even how he did it, but one moment he was stalking back and forth, making tracks on the thick carpet, and the next both his feet hit the back of the chair Derek was sitting in, almost catapulting the older wolf into the fireplace.
Stiles was on his back, trying to catch his breath. He'd not expected to lash out – hadn't even used his brain to work out how to launch himself across the room, he just… jumped.
Derek, blue eyes glowing with fury and rage, picked him up by the throat and dragged him upright, nails digging into Stiles neck. "What the hell was that?" He barked, and all Stiles could think about was the way his feet were almost touching the ground, toes scraping along the carpet. The hand around his throat was painful, but not enough to distract from the corded muscle and tendon of Derek's arm, or the emotions that were playing in his head. Everything was… different. He wasn't able to keep his mind focused at all, his mind thundering with information. Did Derek always smell like pears and cinnamon before? Was the carpet always so thick? Why was the fire crackling so loudly?
He closed his eyes and tried to fight the onslaught of information, but that just made it worse. He let out a groan.
"I'm not hurting you." Derek snapped, putting him back on his feet and letting go of his hold on Stiles neck.
He was standing so close, close enough that Stiles could see the pulse of blood through the wolfs veins, feel Derek's breath on his skin, smell the heat radiating from his body. He took a deep breath in through his nose, smelling things he'd never even known had a smell. The frustration on Derek, the scent of food that lingered from his breakfast, the soap Stiles had used – his own skin, soaked in so many different smells he couldn't pick one out. Eye closed, he breathed in again, letting everything wash over him. He could smell the fire, the wood, the fresh sweat from his body, pears, paper… Unthinking he swayed forward, almost crashing into Derek who grabbed him by the shoulders. Stiles loved the smell of skin and sweat and Derek, leaning further in to the older wolf and inhaling deeply. He could hear a growl, deep and low, as he pushed himself closer to Derek, until he was able to smell only him, eyes tightly closed and blocking everything else. He stepped forward, pushing against the grip on his shoulders, until his face was pressed up against the crook of Derek's neck.
The smell overtook everything. The growl he heard had become a whine, desperate and needy, as he tried to get closer still.
"Stiles." Derek said, voice cool and calm. "Stop it."
The growl was dangerous and low, threatening and deadly as Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, trying to press himself deeper into the crook of Derek's neck.
"Stiles." Derek repeated, and this time Stiles could smell more. He let out a groan, nuzzling and pushing, using his grip to pull himself up, legs wrapping around the other wolf and giving him better access to his neck, where there were so many delicate scents that he couldn't get enough of. Soap, sweat, pears, cotton, paper… all mixed with something he just couldn't place, couldn't put a name to. The noises he could hear were urging him on, needy, desperate for… something.
Derek let out a sigh on a deep breath, and it was only then that Stiles realised that the sounds he was hearing, he was making. It cleared his head almost instantly, and he realised a few things right away.
His legs were wrapped around Derek's waist like a spider monkey, he was most definitely grinding his hard on into Derek Hale – and he was making desperate begging sounds in the back of his throat. And Derek was just standing there.
"Well, this is mortifying." He admitted, unable to move. His throat felt rough and overused, voice coming out in a half growl, half whine.
"It's not really your fault." Derek said, and Stiles could hear the tension in his voice, wound tightly. He looked down at Derek's neck, red and wet where he had been nuzzling, a patch of too pink skin in the shape of…
"Did I bite you?" Stiles squeaked, he could actually feel the colour drain from his face.
"Yes."
"I'm really sorry." He said, putting his forehead on Derek's shoulder and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "If you are going to kill me could you make it like, really quick? And painless? Mostly painless." He said, nuzzling again, unaware of what he was doing. "Will Laura be pissed if you killed me?" He murmured, teeth scraping over skin. "I mean, with the blood in the carpets and things?" He nudged at Derek's neck, gently nipping and nuzzling as he did so. The older wolf tipped his head back to allow him better access, and Stiles felt the growl deep his own throat.
Derek was moving, Stiles was dimly aware of the air on his skin, cool and warm at the same time, mind franticly trying to tell him something… but all around him he could smell Derek, and it was perfect.
Something soft but firm pressed into his back, snapping him back to the land of the self-aware an instant before Derek leaned him back onto the mattress, covering his body. "This is… um… hey… hi… um." Was all he could think to say, words completely abandoning him.
"You're going to have to unwrap you-" Derek muttered, at the same time Stiles mind caught up with him, unhooking his legs from behind Derek's back and letting go of the grip on his shoulders.
"Sorry." He blushed, as Derek pulled away.
"Just stay there." He muttered, turning his back and walking to his chair.
Stiles crawled back on the bed, pulling the covers over his head and praying that he could die. He couldn't bring himself to walk to the bathroom and jerk off, and there was no way he was going to be able to do it in Derek's bed, so he closed his eyes tightly and prayed that his body would get the hint.
He woke up when Derek climbed onto the other side of the bed, shocked that he'd even fallen asleep.
"Derek?" He said, quietly, thankful for the dark and the covers that hid his face.
"Jesus, Stiles, just go to sleep."
"I just wanted to say sorry." He said, feeling like an idiot.
"It's not your fault." Derek muttered, rolling onto his back. Stiles could almost feel the head pooling off his body, close enough to touch.
"I'm still sorry." He said, head clearer than it had been earlier. Good God, he'd climbed Derek Hale like a spider, all arms and legs. Derek Hale, who probably was super uncomfortable about being in the same bed with him. "I could go back to my room now." He mumbled. "I don't know what I was thinking earlier."
"You'll stay where you are." Derek snapped, rolling and pulling Stiles into his body. "Laura is already pissed with me; I'm not letting you out of my sight."
He was gripping Stiles arm tightly, the angriest spooning position ever, thankfully Stiles was the little spoon, because even sleep hadn't taken away the raging boner that was making his life hell. The feeling, though, of Derek's body pressed back against his, was enough to make his brain fire up.
"Dude, you are making it worse." Stiles whined, trying to wriggle away from the hot feel of Derek's skin on his naked back. The feel of Derek's hard…
Derek was hard. He was super, super hard, pressed against Stiles back. Stiles stopped moving completely, brain working too fast for his body to catch up to his thought processes.
"Just go to sleep." Derek said, his voice a warning.
"You've got a boner." Stiles said, because apparently he was lacking in anything resembling self-preservation. Derek didn't move, didn't try to put more space between them or even deny it. "You spent nearly a full half hour climbing me like a tree." He snapped, sounding pissed. "What the hell do you think was going to happen?"
"But… but you're like… you're Derek Hale!" Stiles whined. "You don't… it's not… holy crap, you're like, really, really hard."
"Shut up, and go to sleep."
"I can't go to sleep now!" Stiles half whined. "How can I go to sleep when you're totally poking me in the back?" Derek sighed, and pulled away from Stiles, or at least tried to – but Stiles rolled with him, turning so he was half on his back, half facing the wolf, still pressed tightly to his side. "Why do you smell so nice?" he mumbled, blushing even as he said it.
"Don't think about it."
"But you do." Stiles said, sniffing the air. "It makes it hard to think."
"What do you want, Stiles?" Derek sighed, sounding more exasperated than pissed off.
"Can I just smell you a little?" Stiles mumbled, mortified that he was even saying the words. It was like his mouth didn't have a filter, saying everything that was popping into his mind.
"Fine." Derek muttered, "But if you bite me," He warned – but Stiles was already nuzzling into Derek. There was something he just couldn't place, something that seemed to stop his brain from working correctly. He was aware of the sounds in the back of his throat, the heady smells that were messing with his ability to focus.
Derek moved slightly, sliding his arm under Stiles body to pull him closer, which Stiles agreed with totally. "S'nice." He muttered against the hot skin of the other wolf. "S' really nice." If Stiles got too insistent, Derek would growl at him – push his head away with his chin - it pissed Stiles off.
"Don't push me away." He snapped, temper flaring dangerously, hands pushing Derek's head to one side so he could have better access to his neck, which resulted on him landing, rather quickly, on the floor on the other side of the bed, in a heap of gangly arms and legs, Derek's feet hitting the carpet. "What the fuck was that for?" He raged, trying to pull himself to his feet, only to be knocked back down on his ass by the Beta.
"Stiles, I swear to God, if you don't behave I'm going to tie you to the bed." Derek snapped, pointed teeth showing.
"Promise?" Stiles found himself saying, mouth working without engaging his brain once again. He would never have said that – he'd have thought it, sure – but he would never had actually said it before. And then he wouldn't have seen the totally unsure, slightly shocked expression on Derek's face change to something mid-way between amusement and 'damn fucking right' just for an instant before settling on 'Seriously Pissed'.
"If you keep this up I'll send you through to Peter." He warned.
"No you won't." Stiles said, still sprawled on the floor, looking up at the Beta. "You won't let Peter anywhere near me."
"Shut up." Derek snapped. "And get back into bed."
"You threw me out!"
"You-" Derek snapped back, then stopped. "I'm not getting into an argument with you." He said, turning back and getting back under the covers. "Sleep on the floor if you like."
Stiles woke up when Derek lifted him off the floor and muttered something about him being a stubborn idiot, before he fell back to sleep, wraped warm and safe.
This was the chapter that JUST WOULDN'T WRITE.
I don't know why I'm getting such bad writers block with this, but I'm stumbling over the keyboard like a drunk at a Christmas Party.
Y U NO let me write you, story?!
I think I need... crackers and cheese and chocolate.
Oh, actually, I think I might have some salted caramel somewhere. BONUS.
Until tomorrow!
Love you like... Deathwing Loves Barbecue!